


lovely little lonely

by spearp



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Semi es guitarrista no me lo funen, bad ex cameo, kind of, pls make this a tag, semisuna, sunasemi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28846059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spearp/pseuds/spearp
Summary: “Hey babe, sorry for making you wait,” A stranger sits in the vacant seat so confidently that Suna almost believes they had indeed arranged to meet now. He’s about to point out that he got the wrong table, but the words die in his tongue when the man keeps talking, very obviously looking at his face, no sign of acknowledging a mistake. “Did you order yet? Or are you going to introduce me first?”or: It starts with 'stood-up stand-in', and it goes up from there.
Relationships: Suna Rintarou/Semi Eita
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	lovely little lonely

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! i haven't been able to stop thinking about this rarepair and i think it's unacceptable that the tag doesn't even exitst, so let me offer you this. Please let me know what you think about it!
> 
> This is meant to be read with this playlist in mind, and all the songs are in order (it will be updated along with the chapters)
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6KIaLWLw8l3KU1Q9oXoHnr?si=0Eacfp2RQ1GZc-H3mxo2vQ
> 
> The title is from The Maine's Lovely Little Lonely album. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

**𝅘𝅥𝅮 When you're around // Good Luck With That 𝅘𝅥𝅮**

The stable tune of the live jazz band contrasts directly with the clatter of the plates being carried in and out of the kitchen behind Suna. He checks his wristwatch for the time, forgoing the phone in his jacket pocket as he is trying to not bring it out on the table, knowing it was unlikely he would put it away again. So much for making a good impression, he contemplates, scanning the restaurant full of people he probably wouldn’t really enjoy talking to.

He is not stupid, he realized he got stood up way before than the thirty minutes that have passed with no words from this blind date, the odds that he actually appears go down by the second. Still, he doesn’t leave. The chill ambiance music is soothing, and the place is warm for winter. He plans to order a few things, even if it’s not his scene he’s going to enjoy his night, and he doesn’t have problems eating alone after all. Yes, the reservation was for two and the hostess gives him a pitying glance every time she walks by and notices he’s still alone, but he doesn’t really care.

His eyes go back to the menu, everything has a more redundant name than the last one to catalogue the simplest, most overpriced salads. For that money he hopes it is at least the best food he’d ever taste. _I should tell Osamu about this place next time he comes visit, we could mock this ridiculous names and guilt trip Atsumu into paying,_ he muses as he chooses a plate that sounds barely familiar and prepares to call down the waiter.

Until he lifts his gaze and sees the last person that should be here…his ex.

Now, Suna Rintaro is not a person that minds what others think regarding his personal or love life, he doesn’t mind being the single one out of his group of friends – the very same reason they’ve been pushing him to accept at least one date. But he is also not a person who enjoys feeling less than someone, and the only person who truly makes him feel like that is talking to the receptionist with a smile that used to shake the foundations of Suna’s world, and a pretty lady in his arm.

Suna Rintaro surely does not panic, either. He plays a competitive sport professionally. He’s in line to be called to the National Team if he keeps up the work this and next season. He’s trained to perform well and think fast under pressure, and he is the one who makes the opponent break rather than bend. But he also is facing a man who took years out of his life to get to know him, make him fall in love, and ruin everything on his path enough to plant self-doubt for the first time in his life.

The best scenario would be one where he doesn’t have to confront his ex in any form, but he’s literally blocking the way out by standing at the only entrance in sight. He guesses it wouldn’t help his case to hurriedly cross the restaurant to hide in the bathroom and there’s no time anyway. The only door near him surely leads to the kitchen, and even for him it’s too extreme of an option if he’s trying to avoid embarrassment. When he rules out all his options and figures he can only hope to be noticed, even in all his 191-centimeter build, enough time has passed for the couple– his ex and the pretty girl that accompanies him tonight – trailing behind the hostess to reach his table.

“Suna?” How he hates that voice, but it’s no lie he would recognize it anywhere in the world. He closes his eyes for two seconds to gather enough strength for this exchange and curse the universe for putting him in the spot while he’s at it.

“Hey…” He offers awkwardly, all his hopes of going unnoticed thrown out of the window.

“Fancy seeing you here, are you alone?” He asks, glancing to the side of the table that is set up but clearly untouched. And he knows Yuki wouldn’t mock him in public, hiding the worst remarks for private and putting the most angelic face to the rest, but the teasing tone makes Suna’s stomach feel sick. It doesn’t sit right with him that the first time they’ve seen each other in years it’s when he’s been literally stood up because, apparently, he can’t find or hold a relationship while the ex-boyfriend here definitely has his whole life figured out, of course.

“No,” He stutters trying to find a last-minute excuse, coming up blank. And as much as he knows he doesn’t owe him no explanation he still tries to make up something; his face is already reddening in shame as he decides to tell the truth. “Actually, I-"

“Hey babe, sorry for making you wait,” A stranger sits in the vacant seat so confidently that Suna almost believes they had indeed arranged to meet now. He’s about to point out that he got the wrong table, but the words die in his tongue when the man keeps talking, very obviously looking at his face, no sign of acknowledging a mistake. “Did you order yet? Or are you going to introduce me first?”

“Yuki, this is…” Suna starts getting out of his trance, but he stops short when he realizes that he doesn’t know this person but calling him out when he looks so sure of being right doesn’t seem okay either. The only options that come to his mind is that this person is completely blind and mistook him for someone else, this person has early onset dementia and mistook him for someone else, or this person is fully aware that they don’t know each other and has a reason to meddle. He can’t think of any reason though.

“Semi Eita,” The answer comes from the familiar voice that he wasn’t expecting to speak now. Suna is almost sure that he hears a hint of distaste in his voice directed to the man across from him, but he doesn’t have an explanation for that either.

“You know him.” It’s more a statement than a question. When he faces Yuki and finds him looking spitefully at them, while this ‘Semi’ guy sports a knowing smirk, he’s figures it doesn’t matter if it wasn’t one, as he has a thousand more questions now.

“Yeah, we played volleyball in high school. And he’s known for the music he makes now. It’s kind of hard not to know him,” his ex replies tentatively, like he’s waiting for either of them to stand up and call the prank off.

“…Right,” With no idea of how or interest in following the conversation, Suna takes to looking interestedly at his folded hands on the table. Semi doesn’t seem concerned in replying either.

“Well, I have to get going to my table. Nice to see you Rin, Semi.” The nickname is obviously a slip of the tongue, and while it would’ve thrown Suna off in any other case, he’s too invested looking at the man in front of him. Now that the crisis is averted, he takes the time to eye him down. The first thing he concludes is that he must be insane, the second one is that he’s really, really hot. Not that he’s interested in involving himself with a stranger like that.

* * *

**𝅘𝅥𝅮 Then we danced // Aurora 𝅘𝅥𝅮**

“What are you doing?” Suna asks in a low voice after waiting a few moments to make sure the couple were out of earshot. He knows how to keep calm on the outside even when he’s freaking out in his mind, not used to being left in the dark. He’s usually the one who has the most information in every situation, or otherwise he wouldn’t have so much black mailing material on his friends and teammates.

“Oh, I saw that you were waiting a lot before ordering and you looked one second away from panicking when you saw that dude.” The ash haired boy answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Are you stalking me?” Suna inquiries again, not satisfied with the answer.

“No, god no,” Semi has the nerve to huff a laugh like _he’s_ the crazy one, while he reaches to grab a menu from the side of the table, “I was playing with the jazz band recently, have direct view of this side of the restaurant.”

“And you recognized me?” The confusion morphs to disbelief, and Semi seems to catch onto that too, replacing his arrogant smirk with a more approachable, bashful grin.

“Well, it’s been a few years but…you’re kinda hard to forget,” Suna feels like he’s indeed the one going crazy, catching a speck of redness on the other’s cheek before it’s gone in the blink of an eye. “I saw you at Nationals once, left a good impression.”

“Oh,” Again, it’s hard to make Suna speechless. After knowing the Miya’s for years, he had to be ready to retort whatever biting remark, whenever. But there’s something about Semi that makes his mind go on 0,5 speed and his tongue entangle, not in a bad way. “Thank you. I wouldn’t want to hold you back, though” He says when Semi, apparently still on character, scans the menu.

“It’s fine, I’m hungry. And besides, wouldn’t it be weird if I just got up and left after doing that? What if he sees you or come back,” Suna must give him that, it would be more embarrassing if Yuki saw him alone again after making up that lie. “Unless I’m bothering you…”

“No, it’s fine, you can stay. I’m just startled, I guess”. He finally withdraws his eyes from Semi and busies himself with calling down the waiter and ordering the dinner he’s put off the last minutes.

“So, tell me, where you really waiting on someone or did I assume wrong and meddled,” Semi asks once they are comfortably settled to eat.

“No, you were right. I don’t mind eating alone but…I got stood up for a date that my friends have been pushing me to.” Suna admits, hoping he doesn’t confront another pitying gaze. It’s not that big of a deal.

“That sucks, they have to check their matchmaking abilities.” Semi replies jokingly, making light of the issue and making Suna feel even lighter now, like he was rekindling with a friend that he hasn’t seen in a while.

“I don’t even know where they got this guy,” And before he knows, both dive into a comfortable an easy conversation like this dinner was set up by themselves.

* * *

**𝅘𝅥𝅮 City // Sakura Trees 𝅘𝅥𝅮**

The wind outside hits crisply against their cheeks when Suna follows Semi onto the street, pulling up the collar of his jacket to cover a higher part of his neck. He notices Semi’s outfit for the first time that night, wearing a black leather jacket and jeans that he was sure weren’t allowed on the stage part of this restaurant with the jazz band. It doesn’t look like it’s keeping him warm enough either, but the other doesn’t seem to care, obviously more preoccupied with looking good.

In retrospect, it was a nicer evening than Suna was expecting when he got out of his house earlier, and he even recognizes a bashful feeling inside that tells him he wouldn’t mind doing it again, is Semi was willing that is. He’s about to inform Semi of this when on the corner of his eye he notices the door they just close open again, to reveal the people he was trying to avoid, again.

Before he can make a move to leave or warn Semi, his ex takes two long strides to reach him while looking at his companion murderously and giving Suna a glare that reminds him of bad old days and things he wishes to forget. With no words exchanged yet, he notices Semi perk up beside him, somehow managing to look intimidating even without the full ten centimeters that make him shorter than Suna.

“Where are you going now?” Even if it’s a seemingly harmless question, the bitterness underneath doesn’t go unnoticed by neither of them. Before he can even think of replying ‘just home’, Semi steps up to say, “To mine’s,” as he grabs Suna’s hand and leads him down the street.

He allows himself to follow without question for a few blocks, not taking his eyes from the grip, not quite feeling it as much as he was only seeing it. Until he notices that the touch is lighter and more mellow than what it looks like, with his own hands calloused and coarse from volleyball, and Semi’s just as rough, probably from playing guitar, but still warm and soft-

Wait what? Soft? “Why are you holding my hand?”

“Does it bother you?” Semi doesn’t take his eyes from the path forward, guiding them between the masses of people strolling around and going in and out of the variety of restaurants and bars like the one they just left.

“I don’t mind,” Suna answers trying to look as unbothered as he definitely does not feel but wants to. He never has to think twice about looking nonchalant because he always is, but now it’s like he must even ponder about how he’s going to move his feet the next second while walking. Naturally (but not really), Semi sees right through him, “You know, I think you mind about a lot more things that you let on.”

“Are you psychoanalyzing me?” This makes Semi huff a sound laugh, with his mouth wide open, unlike the quiet ones from the restaurant, “It’s just an observation.”

“So…what else do you ‘observe’?” Suna asks, preparing himself for some sarcastic remark that his friends would throw daily. The other option is hearing a subtle fact, with hidden truth, that will make him doubt if Semi has some psychic power or is into weird mystical practices. He should ask his sister if this sounds like astrology or that kind of things that she’s been getting into lately.

“That you don’t wanna go home yet” For the third time that night, Suna is equal parts amazed and confused, “Do you wanna get a drink?”

They’ve stopped in front one of the hundred bars that look the same in this street, and one peek inside gives him enough information to know that he doesn’t want to enter that overcrowded space for a warm beer. He makes an expression of contemplating if accepting the invitation or not, while he glances sideways and notices that he knows the street they’re on, even though he didn’t pay attention to any of his surroundings while he was being handled by Semi, “Actually, I know someplace better.”

* * *

**𝅘𝅥𝅮 Shibuya 𝅘𝅥𝅮**

Reversing the roles, now Suna tugs on Semi’s hand – the same he didn’t let go at any moment in the first place – and starts to guide him through the familiar path he’s covered with his friends on game night more than a few times. While he doesn’t know Semi, or what scene he enjoys the best, he’s aware this is an almost universal hanging out place, very hard to go wrong. Not that he’d admit it, but it has something to do with how he wants to spend more time with Semi, or how he hopes the feeling is reciprocated.

“Is it even legal to open this late,” the ash haired man mutters when they stop in the sidewalk in front of an establishment with an ‘open’ sign and music pouring out, but unmistakably different from the ones they passed. Basking in the neon purple lights, Suna thinks this color definitely suits Semi, and he wonder how he really didn’t notice him on high school. Then again, he wasn’t – and isn’t quite now – very aware of his surroundings, unless it had to do with outsmarting his teammates in some prank or gossiping enough to gather evidence to blackmail most of his friends. “That’s what they’re for, I don’t think it’s for kids,” Suna offers, pointing to a sign that indicates the working times and the permit to sell alcohol.

“For someone with your aesthetic, it doesn’t look like you have a knack for the night life,” Suna teases in response to Semi’s hesitation, trying to hide the fact that he’s having second thoughts about this. What if he thinks it’s childish, even if they serve the same kind of booze than in a bar but with added fun? He should’ve thought this better. Semi is a musician; he must hang out in much cooler places with much more interesting people than what Suna is bringing to the table. He’s probably boring him and-

“I love it,” Semi smiles wider than he had all night, and Suna wonders if it’s all the reflection, or if he’s actually emitting his own light with all the twinkling and glitter that surrounds him. The truth is that its probably getting late enough that his brain is making up things.

They walk inside the arcade and start making a survey of the games they want to play and how many coins they’ll need. After picking up some drinks, they settle on a free air hockey table, where Semi suggest playing twenty questions to pass the time. (No, it’s not a childish game, shut up).

“Do you have siblings?” Semi starts, while also setting the chip on the table and grabbing a handle.

“One, a little sister,” Suna answers, settling on the opposite side of the table and starting the game after throwing a coin that landed heads up, “You don’t look like someone who plays jazz.”

“That’s not a question,” They go back and forth for a while until Suna doesn’t reach far enough and the chip disappears on the table slit at his side. Damn, apparently this has its own difficulty completely different to blocking a spike. On his defense, he’s not one for making extra effort when it’s not absolutely needed. “What kind of musician are you, then?”

“An amateur one, obviously,” Suna breathes a laugh. The opposite side of the table swallows the chip now, leaving them even, firing Semi’s competitive side and making him move faster, while talking at the same calm speed, “No, I’m serious. I had a job as a civil servant that I left a few months ago to pursue music. Jazz in stuck up restaurants is what pays the bills while I get work on what I truly want to do,”

“What is that what you want to do?” Suna inquiries immediately, getting called out for not following the games shifts, “You know, twenty questions is not that fun is you abide by the rules that strictly,”

“It also doesn’t work if you don’t follow them either,” Semi retorts, “I have a good one though,”

“Shoot then.”

The games ends shortly after – Semi trashing Suna at table hockey, and Suna messing up the turns at twenty questions frequently enough that they both gave up and talked normally, which wasn’t all that different. In the span of a few hours, they surf all the games they wanted (Suna winning Mortal Kombat, Semi carrying the team at duo shooting games, both getting almost kicked out for throwing the balls at each other at mini basketball), with enough drinking and smoking breaks in between.

“Well, I should really go home now,” Suna zips up his jacket as he walks out onto the fresh air with Semi in tow for the second time that night. Instead of greeting their goodbyes, Semi asks, “Can I show you something? It’s just that we’re near.”

“Near what?” He inquiries but when he doesn’t get a clear answer, he stills follows Semi like it doesn’t matter where they go, “You’ll see.”

Walking a few more blocks south, they gradually walk away from the more crowded parts of the city and arrive to a dimly lit street that doesn’t look commercial, but it doesn’t seem fit for residential purposes either. Suna has a passing thought that maybe he shouldn’t go to sketchy looking places he doesn’t know with a stranger, but he’s been doing it all night. Besides, Semi doesn’t even feel like a stranger, and are they really? When they get inside and Semi turns the light on, Suna realizes this must be his studio, and it completely contrasts with what he saw outside, it’s nice and comfortable inside, it’s also warm. “Welcome to the _Sunaelectric,_ ”

“That cannot be the name,” Suna deadpans, not truly believing it but preparing for the worst.

“That’s right, I just made it up,” Semi chuckles and clears the couch from the pile of fully written papers and hoodies thrown around, and then invites Suna to sit, “I told you I do jazz ambiance music for a paycheck, but I’d like to show you what I do for a living.

I want to try something. Close your eyes, and tell me how it feels,” Suna, of course, obliges. He has been doing an awful lot of obeying without questioning, for someone who usually is the complete opposite. He can only hope neither of the Miya’s ever find out about this, or it will be his downfall.

Listening to the first chords, he closes his eyes. The music fills the room, as perfectly as it can in an acclimatized space for this purpose. He’s not expert of music but can assume there are more instruments meant to participate in this song. In any case, the notes flowing out of the strumming of Semi’s fingers feel complete, like what he’s hearing was exactly made for him.

It takes a while to make his mind completely blank, trying hard to not focus on the technicalities and more on the feeling. Once he does, he pictures this exact moment. Lively autumn nights. Wandering around aimlessly. Yellow streetlights and purple neon signs. Bantering with a new acquaintance that feels like an old friend. Chilly wind on his cheeks and steady warmth covering his hands.

* * *

**𝅘𝅥𝅮 Sustained Hope 𝅘𝅥𝅮**

When the music stops, Suna opens his eyes and looks up at Semi, and it’s probably the liquid courage working, along with the tiredness and the accumulated laughs that have passed through his mouth all day. He doesn’t really remember him, maybe if he saw a picture or a video of their high school games. But it doesn’t really matter because the Semi he’s interested in knowing is the one in front of him. He leans forward, and if the other man is surprised, he doesn’t show it, but Suna notices the grip on the guitar that’s still on his lap gets tighter. “I don’t kiss on the first date,” he whispers millimeters away from his mouth.

“Good thing it wasn’t our first date,” Semi smirks, like he just revealed a secret meant solely for the two of them in this confined space. Suna is more interested by the second, “What was it then?”

“You have to ask me out for real to call it a date,” Semi stands up to put the instrument away, and Suna starts getting up feeling dazed, like this whole night has been a dream. He stares at Semi’s back feeling he’s forgetting something important, like that time he arrived at the airport without his passport.

With that thought in mind he crosses the distance, determined not to regret anything when he leaves the studio, grabs Semi’s arm to turn him around, but stops shortly when they’re facing one another. A hundred thoughts trample each other in his mind fighting for a chance to develop, but all too primal and rough to mean anything, all regarding the man in front of him. Semi’s eyes, the perfume surrounding both this close, with a hint of smoke hanging around, the warmth enveloping them that became familiar enough it will haunt him, his lips, his smirk. Everything about Semi Eita was inviting.

“Are you teasing me?” Semi asks through that smirk. Suna is aware his heatbeat is pounding loudly in his ears, probably deafening enough that Semi might as well hear it, “Just making sure.”

“Well, if you won’t do it, I will.” Suna felt out of one of the teenage romance novels that his sister would persuade him into buying. Heart pounding, weak knees, gut fluttering. For all the rough hands and heavy builds, it was all time-stopping when their lips met. Semi’s soft lips were a contrast to everything he displayed himself to be. The kiss was raw and the lingering taste of alcohol the only sign that everything up until this moment was certainly real and not a product of his imagination.

The feeling was destabilizing, he notices Semi’s hand on his nape, reassuring and leading. When Suna starts to struggle for air, the guitarist catches onto this and releases, but it’s not long until their lips meet halfway again, hungrier. Suna lifts his hand from Semi’s arm to grip his hair, wanting to melt into him, like he’s not close enough, like he doesn’t want to let go, ever. The time spent like this, with Semi’s hand cupping his cheek, could have been mere minutes or hours.

The first certainty Suna has is that he hasn’t felt this way in years, or ever in his life, probably. And there’s no explanation for how they ended up like this barely hours after _actually meeting._ They break it off after a while, brown eyes looking into olive ones, both as unwavering as their holders. Semi finds his voice again, shattering the breathless silence, “It’s late, maybe we should go.” Suna nods absentmindedly, not taking his eyes from Semi’s swollen lips.

The second certainty he has, is that he definitely wants this to happen again, frequently if possible.

It’s only when Suna arrives home safe and sound, ready to sleep for a full day and thank god he doesn’t have practice the next day, that he realizes. They never made plans to go out again, or even intentions to reach out. They didn’t even exchange numbers.

And if Suna goes a few times to the same restaurant in hopes of catching the sight of a certain ash haired man, well, no one has to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading<3
> 
> Find me on twt @ prdswng to see me ranting about life but in spanish


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